Assassin's Creed: Rememberance
by DeusExfreak
Summary: A retelling of Assassin's Creed 2 with a narrative and story more faithful to the visions of the original Full summary inside Constructive criticism welcomed (I had to change the original title because I just learned Oliver Bowden beat me to the title "Assassin's Creed: Renaissance.")
1. Author's Foreword

Ah, the original Assassin's Creed. A game with such class, such dignity, such...love and care put into it. Yes, the gameplay wasn't great, but the narrative was something unforgettable. The dialogue, the eerie sense of mystery, the slowly unraveled plot, the philosophy...it's still so hard to articulate the magic of all that. It was the thinking-man's action game, sort of like my namesake was the thinking man's FPS.

I was excited, or cautiously optimistic, about Assassin's Creed 2. When I watched a scared Carlo Grimaldi yell into the dawn sky, proclaiming his will to fight the unseen assassin Ezio Auditore as much to prove his bravery and pride to himself as to his intruder, all seemed in order.

Still, the "cautious" in "cautious optimism" was justified. Ever since playing AC2, I've ached with nostalgia and mourning for the death of lost potential. While the gameplay was an improvement...a big improvement, I found the narrative was a slap in the face. In my opinion, the dialogue was corny, the overall story spun out of control, Ezio's fight against the Templars was a painfully bland tale, the humor wasn't funny, and the revelations in the plot totally flew in the face of what was already established. When I found out that the Assassins and Templars existed before the Hashashin and Knights Templar, I felt like the developers had torn my heart out: the original Assassin's Creed, with a little (okay, a lot of) inference on my part, was a brilliant origin story of a global conspiracy and secret society war. Now it turns out it was just an arbitrary point in an age long conflict. When I found out I would assassinate the freakin' Pope with no build up, just skip ten years on the timeline and then waltz into the Vatican, something inside me died. When Abstergo agents came to the assassin hideout not with guns but BATONS, I wanted to scream.

Long story short, Assassin's Creed 2 kicked me in the nuts. The gameplay was much more fun than the original, but ever since then I've felt like the Assassin's Creed series has been whoring itself out, churning out game after game to make the most money possible without its original dignity. Not that there's anything wrong with that: bigger sales means more happy people, but it also means the large minority of people like me, who so value a good, dignified narrative, are left twisting in the wind.

I skipped Brotherhood and Revelations. Assassin's Creed 3, however, half way redeemed the series in my eyes. The dialogue was better, and they brought back those lovely "final words" conversations. The plot was interesting. However, it was too late to bring back the glory of the original, and the story arch had become grossly convoluted (Lucy being a double-double agent, seriously?). From Assassin's Creed 2 onwards, it has been painfully obvious the developers have been making up the story as they went along. And now that I hear that Abstergo apparently sells animi as a form of gaming consoles, something Lucy literally JOKED about in the first game, I want to scream again. Oh how the mighty have fallen!

And that, my friends, is why I want to write this story. To right a massive historical wrong. To tell the tale of Assassin's Creed 2 more like I wish it would have been.

Why did I take so long? Inspiration for this story has come and gone in waves. The truth is, though, I did not get to it sooner because I had to finish up my other whale of a novel (The Price of Power and the Value of Hypocrites). It pains me that I did not get this AC story done before the 2012 apocalypse but, well, whatcha gonna do? I'm going to begin it now. My latest Elder Scrolls fic is not done, but it's so close to coming to close that I feel comfortable splitting my mind over two different projects.

Everything you learned in Assassin's Creed 1, that remains valid. After that, the slate is being wiped clean (even Bloodlines). This story is a reboot of everything post-AC1.

Like any reboot, I _will_ steal a lot of ideas from the often beautiful mess that came after the original game. As much as I may sound disrespectful to the developers, I proclaim full authority to rip off them whenever I like (so I don't want to speak too ill of them). However, I will be beholden to none of it. I want to recreate Assassin's Creed 2 as I had hoped it would be, as it coulda-woulda-shoulda been, with a narrative that had its roots in the original game. That even means bringing back the things some people didn't like: Back are frequent modern day interludes. Back are the post-death conversations. Less disagreeably, Abstergo is no longer in Italy. The satellite is still the doomsday plot. And the Templars no longer existed before the Knights Templar. Everything else remains for you to discover.

At times, this story may feel a bit gamey. That's intentional. I wanted to write something that feels like it could be easily translated into an Assassin's Creed game. In all honesty, this is the most self-indulgent fic I've yet written, but I hope it will also be a passable novel and bring comfort to those heart-broken by the death of what could have been a great saga.

Just as the Italian Renaissance brought back the intellectual greatest of the Greek civilization that came before to redeem Western civilization, I want to bring back the greatest of the original Assassin's Creed to redeem the series in my heart.

Enjoy.


	2. Modern Day: Abstergo Escape

_My name is Desmond Miles. I'm a prisoner of war. A war never knew existed, waged by two groups I never thought were real. Templars and Assassins. The animus showed me the truth. The things I've seen, the things I've been: brought to life by this machine. They're using me, using me to search for something. They call it 'The Apple.' It's an artifact, one of the many so-called 'Pieces of Eden.' The Templars collect them. It's how they stay in power. But if the Templars get their hands on another one, everything will change. They want to make us all their slaves. _

_When they first brought me here, I was afraid of what would happen if I tried to fight back. Now? Now I'm afraid of what will happen if I don't._

_But I can't do it alone. And maybe I don't have to. I met someone. Her name is Lucy. I think she's on my side. She's gone now. She had to leave with that bastard Warren Vidic and his Templar Masters. I don't know what happened to her. Or what will happen to me. All I know is I need to get out of here, and I need to do it soon._

* * *

Desmond had looked at the myriad of symbols on the wall with a vague sense of terror and a profound sense of fascination. How he was doing this, he could not articulate. But despite its emotional gravity, it provided no answers to his current, practical plight. So he had stopped.

The fate world was literally at stake. All because of memories flowing through his blood. Memories that were too late to with-hold. He had been the cause of all this. Leaving his parent's protection, going along with Warren Vidic out of fear. But there had to be a way he could make things right. Yet as he lied on the bed thinking, no plan seemed to pan out. Each one ran into a wall.

A knock on his door startled him. He shot up from the bed.

He could see someone through the cross-shaped window on his bedroom door. It was not Vidic. Someone shorter? A woman.

He got up. He want to the door.

Lucy. She had changed her clothes, traded her skirt and blouse for a sleeveless shirt and jeans. And on her bosom there was a small splatter of blood. The door opened and her expression was serious and focused.

"We have to go," she said simply. But a hundred questions were flooding Desmond's brain.

"Lucy, where have you been? Why did they-"

"Now!" she demanded, and began walking briskly, tensely.

Desmond followed. She looked like she was heading for those double doors he had so longing looked through a hundred times before. He was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but...

"What's with the blood, are you okay?"

She stop and turned. She said without hint of exaggeration or humor, "Look, we have maybe ten minutes, _maybe_ before they figure out what I've done. If we're not out of here and on the road before then-"

"We're leaving?"

"Desmond, I promise to answer all of your questions, _later._ But right now I need you to just shut up and follow me."

Being treated like a dog was nothing new to Mr. Miles, though such treatment from a beautiful and, at first appearance, meek young woman like her certainly was. Still, he knew he should not be ungrateful for these circumstances.

She got back to walking. Yes, she was heading for the exit, the doorway that had been like chains around his ankle he was just now breaking.

The guard was no longer present. She passed through the double doors he had so often entertained the idea of escaping through, and so did he.

Her pace maintained, however. Why wasn't she running? Maybe because that would have sounded too suspicious to the surrounding people, where and who ever they were.

It was a sterile, white, cross shaped hallway. No one else was present, for now, although Desmond was ever so tense at the prospect of that changing.

She made a left, so Desmond did too. These were all new sights to him. He had been blind-folded during his kidnapping, taken to the facility by helicopter.

She was heading for a sturdy looking door with reinforced glass.

She took out a key and unlocked it. They passed through.

The hall ahead was no less sterile looking, but curved with no off-shooting rooms.

Lucy's pace became a soft run which he mimicked. How long could this keep up before someone tried to intervenne? What had she 'done'?

They came to a set of elevators, and Lucy punched the button to call it, then looked around nervously. And not a moment too soon.

"You, there!" cried a bearded man in a pair bulky security guards. They had their batons out and were running towards the pair. Desmond froze like a dear in the headlights. It sounded like Lucy was doing the same. Did she have a contingency plan?

The two men, with honed physical form and a myriad of tools, stopped in front of them, as if about to speak, when Desmond's instincts took over. With finesse that greatly surprising even himself, he grabbed the baton of the guard on the right, punched him in the stomach, disarming him, blocking the blow of the guard on the left, before kicking the first man hard in the stomach.

He got in a combative stance to deal with the remaining sentry. The young employee looked at him with scared hesitation, but eventually moved in for a swing. Desmond blocked it, parried his weapon aside in a moment of kinship with his ancestor, and smacked him hard in the temple, knocking him to the floor.

It had happened so fluently. The ex-bartender could hardly believe what he had witnessed. Had he killed him? But he had little time to reflect; The elevator arrived, and as he stared at the two men on the floor, one unconscious and the other groaning, Lucy had to pull him in.

She punched the button for the doors to close, glancing around impatiently as she waited. She seemed less surprised by what he had done than he was, far more concerned about the button obeying her command. Had he actually killed someone, for the first time in his life? He had experienced it as Altiar, but that was just like a dream. This was reality. He had really changed something.

After what probably seemed like an eternity to for Lucy, the doors shut, and the elevator began descending.

Did everyone get that good when they were in mortal danger? He supposed it did not matter. Thankfully, in addition to bafflement he had a new found confidence. And he had not dropped the weapon.

He looked towards Lucy. The beautiful blonde, however, seemed glassy eyed, worried, and lost in thought, even with their momentary safety.

"So we're really gettin' out of here, eh?" Desmond asked conversationally, not sure what to do with the stagnancy as they descended. He knew if they were going for ground level, this would take a little while.

"Desmond, believe me: this escape is going to be easy compared to what's in store for us in the coming months."

"Why, what do you need _me_ for?" he asked. He felt so out of sorts.

"We need you to become one of us, Desmond. We need all the help we can get in this war."

"Me!?" The bar-tender? The dumb runaway? Lucy did not respond, just kept a firm gaze ahead...at nothing. "What do you think I can do? I'm just-"

"The bleeding effect," she said simply.

"What?"

"The bleeding effect. You saw it first hand yourself. You're picking up the skills of your ancestors."

So that was what the martial marvel he had witnessed was all about.

And the symbols on the wall? Eagle vision?

"You want to make me into an Assassin?"

There was a soft beep as the elevator arrived at ground floor, and the door opened the reveal an underground parking lot. Not the way Desmond had been taken into the facility, having arrived by helicopter. Lucy began running for a small white car. Obviously escape was the first order of business, questions second. But Desmond knew it was a miracle he was getting out at all.

She stopped at the trunk and opened it.

"Get in," she said with a nod. She was stuffing him in the trunk?

"You're joking."

"It's for your own protection," she replied simply. He certainly was not being coddled during his initiation into the order. But better than the captivity of the Templars.

Desmond sighed and climbed in, curling up in the tight space, not meant for human storage.

In her first sign of overdue maternal instinct, she said, "We're almost there." Before slamming the trunk shut and leaving him to the darkness.

His mind was rushing. Where would they go? Could he really become an assassin from nothing more than genetic memory? And how would be spend more time with his ancestor if they were leaving Abstergo? He heard her enter, turn the keys, and then felt a lurch as she reversed. And turned.

"That's them!" he heard a muffled yell. The engine roared as the car sped up and Desmond tensed, everything out of his hands right now. Hopefully they would not- yes, he heard the hair-raising sound of a gunshot before the car took a u-turn with heavy g-force. Desmond was, frankly, scared shitless.

He heard another couple of shots echo but they were growing in distance. And he heard the car shatter what he could only assume was the toll gate and zoom down the road. Luck seemed to have saved him from a close call this time.


	3. Modern Day: Safehouse Arrival

It had been a long ride. He had no way of telling how long. More than a couple of hours, certainly. The apparency of danger had ended after the first few gunshots, thank God, but plenty of bumps and turns were there to throw him in all directions. This was only marginally less brusque than his abduction by Abstergo.

But now, at long last, the car had stopped. And this time he knew it was not a red light, because he could hear Lucy exit.

She opened the trunk. No harsh light to squint at, they were inside...a warehouse. The end point at least. His body was cramped and achey.

"Thanks for that," he said as he crawled his way out. "That was great. Shoved in the trunk, bouncing around."

But Lucy's expression had softened. That was a good sign.

"This way," she said, and started walking.

Desmond, as well, seemed permitted to relax a bit. He rolled his neck and shrugged his shoulders to try to get all the discomfort out of his muscles.

"So how are we going to get this training thing done? What's your plan? Don't we need another animus?"

"We built one. I sent the schematics to another assassin a while ago. We've constructed a replica. Better than the original in some ways. Certainly more portable."

Desmond was no techy, but that seemed...impressive. Especially given the comparatively humble surroundings of an Assassin hideout when juxtaposed with an Abstergo building.

"So...how's this gonna work? More time with Altiar?"

Lucy stepped onto a catwalk they had been approaching. "No. We have a different man in mind."

"What? Why?" Desmond asked.

"This is about a bit more than training you."

"Another treasure hunt through time?" Desmond inquired with a somewhat facetious tone as they continued up the catwalk.

"Desmond," Lucy said with a more serious voice. "The Templars know where the Pieces of Eden are. Now that they've seen that map in your ancestor's memories...we have to beat them to those artifacts. We have some information of our own but...so much has been lost in this war."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been at war with the Templars for centuries. The last few decades...they've been to devastating for both sides. And already: everything we do, it's not the sort of thing you'd want to put on paper. Much of our_ own_ history is a mystery to us. We have a lot to learn from the animus too, just like Abstergo. But we have to learn it fast."

The catwalk level off. Lucy turned and they entered...a hallway of sorts. Its modular, light, industrial look seemed to connect the warehouse to a very different building, with hardwood floor and brick wall. Warehouses were stereotypical secret society hideouts from what Desmond had heard. But what was this? Some kind of apartment complex?

They crossed into the classier building.

Lucy turned back to him.

"Look, Desmond. This won't be easy. And honestly, I can't force you to go through with this. But if we do this right, we have can years of training imprinted into your mind in a matter of days."

"I'm in, I'll do whatever you want," Desmond said simply.

"Really?" she said in a surprise with some semblance of a smile. This caught Desmond off guard.

"I thought you'd be happy..." Did she really think him such a coward that-

"Sorry I'm just..." she looked to the side. "I'm just a little surprised. I spent the whole ride over here trying to figure out how I would convince you to do this."

Desmond put a hand up. "Save it," he said, taking the firm tone for the first time between them. "After what those Templar bastards put me through, I'm ready, willing, and able."

What happened next shocked Desmond equally, as Lucy wrapped her arms around him in embrace.

Desmond, a bit unsure what to think, simply stood frozen. Was this a sign that...no...she was way out of his league. Although one could always hope...

She disengaged, and put her arms on his shoulders. She looked him in the eyes with vulnerable earnesty. "Thank you," she said, purity in her voice.

She walked for a double door way, and they made their way into a large room.

"Lucy!" Desmond heard another female voice yell in glee. Desmond entered to see her run into the embrace of another woman, this one with dark, shorter hair. Maybe he had over analyzed that previous hug.

They disconnected. "God, it's been so long!" she said. "Seven years, can you believe it?"

"Indeed," a male voice chimed in, this one with a British accent. Desmond looked to see a tall, blonde man with jelled up hair, and classy sweater, and glasses, probably about his age. He shifted his gaze to look at Desmond.

The next greeting seemed a bit less friendly. "Ah, this much be the infamous Subject 17. Desmond Miles, was it?" The ex-bartender could not help but detect some venomous sarcasm.

"Who are you?" he asked dourly.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Where are my manners? I'm Shaun Hastings. This is Rebecca Crane."

The dark haired girl, of completely different affect, moved in for an enthusiastic handshake. "Nice to meet you, Desmond," she said. She was hardly as attractive as Lucy but-

"Right well it's been lovely chatting," the Brit interrupted before Miles could speak. "But if you don't mind, it's best we get straight to work. Time is precious, doubly so these days."

No hospitality from him. Already Desmond had developed preferences among the order.

Rebecca looked at him "We've got everything set up and ready, Desmond," she said eagerly. "Just say the word and we'll get going."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know, hard to tell the difference from the original so far, but for some reason I had a burning desire to begin this story, and hopefully this will give you a fair idea of my writing abilities. Stay tuned. There may be a bit of delay as I finish up my final Elder Scrolls fic, but there will definitely be more where this came from.


End file.
